


What Feeling Can You Live Without?

by CosmicCollision



Series: Keithtober 2019 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Happy Ending, Its implied, Keithtober 2019, Kind of angsty, M/M, Street Racing, no real sex though, slightly sexy scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:42:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCollision/pseuds/CosmicCollision
Summary: Keith participates in underground dirt bike races. His loved ones want him to stop, but he can’t get enough of the adrenaline he gets when he rides.





	What Feeling Can You Live Without?

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Keithtober, based on the prompts that @98littleducks ( https://twitter.com/98littleducks ) posted. The prompt for day 1 is Adrenaline.
> 
> Here's the link to the tweet for anyone that is curious; https://twitter.com/98littleducks/status/1173951542271066112?s=09
> 
> Fair warning, this is my first time actually posting one of my stories. I always write them and just leave them on my computer, too nervous to share them. But I love Keith, and it’s Keithtober, so I’m gonna try to post as many of these prompts as I can. (Probably too many of these are going to be klance and not just Keith, but...I love them both, okay? And I never post anything so. Take it.)
> 
> And if these do well maybe I can start posting some of my other stories. We'll see.
> 
> Another warning...I have no idea what it’s like to have an addiction, nor do I know much of anything about adrenaline (as I sit safely at my computer desk day in and day out). So I’m sorry if any of this is inaccurate or if anyone is offended by anything I write. I would love constructive criticism if you have any!

The smell of leather and gasoline hung heavy in the air, dust glowing in the heat of the stadium lights. Engines revved in the distance, a crowd cheering.

Keith took a deep breath, fidgeting with his helmet. He could feel his blood pumping, that high that he loved. An announcer was talking over the speakers, and from the sounds of the crowds, the race must have been over. Keith glanced over at Pidge, and they gave him a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t holding the headphones to their ear. Looks like they weren’t expecting the cops to show tonight.

Pushing his bike out to the stadium, he saw his competitors lining up. There were few rules here, as long as you didn’t purposefully kill anyone, anything goes. The only enforced rule that leads to banning a racer was tampering with someone else’s bike. No one knows who pays the bouncers or where they came from, but they knew who to let in and who to keep out, their purple shirts standing out in a sea of leather and sweaty skin.

Keith pulled his bike to the line and looked over to the crowd for his brother. Shiro was standing near the impromptu bar, arms crossed and watching him intently. He always came to Keith’s matches (the ones he knew about), although he never seemed to enjoy himself. He worried too much; Keith was more than capable of handling this crowd.

Speaking of, the other contestants were getting ready to start. Keith jammed his helmet on and revved his engine, feeling that familiar tingle in his veins. He leaned forward, eyes on flags in the woman’s hands.

And now comes the best part.

*~*~*

Keith rushed over to Shiro, smile big and body still buzzing with adrenaline. “Did you see that? Holy crap, this is gonna pay the rent for a year!”

Shiro only sighed, grabbing Keith's wrist, where a bandage was loosely wrapped around the scrape on his forearm that was still bleeding. “Now you won’t have to come back for a while, you can take a break, find a real job that’s less dangerous. Settle down. Maybe adopt a dog.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith pulled away from Shiro and shrugged his leather jacket back on. “Cut it out, Shiro. I’m not going to stop racing and you know it. Stop bringing it up.” He turned and walked over to the bar, the buzz in his veins dimming after what Shiro said. Hopefully, a beer would kickstart the feeling again.

Standing at the bar was the flag girl that calls the start of the races. Allura, he thinks her name is. She was standing with a boy who’s complexion was just as caramel-colored and clear as her’s. He had on a casual hoodie over a pair of skin-tight jeans and a cropped top. Keith walked up to the bar next to them and ordered a beer. This seemed to garner their attention because the next thing he knew Allura was gone and the boy was turning to face him.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy that won the last race?” Keith glanced over and met bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I heard you beat some favorites. That lost a lot of people money. You really gonna hang around here and taunt them by buying yourself a drink with their cash?”

Keith gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s my money now. I can buy whatever drink I want, for whoever I want.” He turned to the bartender and gestured to the man’s glass. “Get me another of whatever he’s drinking, please.” The boy hummed in amusement as he watched Keith place a hefty lump of cash into the tip jar. “See?” Keith said, sliding the fresh drink in front of the tan beauty. “Whatever I want.”

He watched as the glass was lifted to soft looking lips, feeling a warmth spread through him. “And are you trying to imply that you want me, mister-money-bags?” 

Keith chuckled darkly, taking a long drink from his own cup. He watched as the stranger’s throat bobbed, their eyes trailing down the pale skin of Keith’s neck. The drink hit the bar with a muted clink. “I definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. I’m Keith.”

The boy slid his empty cup in front of him. “I’m still thirsty.” Keith barked out a laugh and gestured to the bartender. Once a fresh glass was set in front of him, the slim stranger said, “the name’s Lance,” then downed the drink in a few quick swallows. “So I have a few roommates, we’ll have to take this back to your place.”

Keith gave him a sideways look as he finished his own drink and closed his tab. “That’s fine by me. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy having you spread out on my bed.”

The two made their way to the parking lot, where Lance held up his keys. “I can drive us if you want to give me directions.”

Keith shrugged. “I have my bike with me, I don’t mind driving you back here in the morning to get your car if you want.”

This seemed to give Lance pause, and he took his time looking Keith up and down. “After you buy me breakfast?”

“I have enough experience in the kitchen to bring you breakfast in bed if you want.”

That brought an almost child-like happiness into Lance’s eyes, a much different look than the seductive ones he’d been throwing Keith’s way so far tonight. He nodded and followed Keith to his motorcycle, taking the helmet that was passed to him.

When he realized Keith wasn’t grabbing a spare to use, Lance tapped his shoulder. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

Keith merely flicked the visor down over Lance’s eyes. “I’ve only got the one with me, and precious cargo comes first.” He didn’t wait for Lance’s response before he turned and revved the engine, waiting for Lance’s arms to come around him before taking off to his apartment.

Once inside, Keith walked through to the kitchen, grabbing Lance a drink of water. “After all the alcohol you had tonight, you’ll be thanking me in the morning for making you drink this.” He took the glass, taking sips from it while he watched Keith move around the kitchen to get himself a drink. Those eyes burned through Keith’s clothes, and he could feel it heating him from the inside. Once both glasses were empty, he took them to the sink to deal with in the morning.

Lance was busy glancing around the apartment, taking in the decor. It was sparsely furnished and almost obsessively clean, not exactly what someone that makes a living from underground dirt bike racing would be expected to have. “Most of this was bought by my brother, Shiro. He said it looked like a prison in here when I moved in, all white walls and no bed.”

That brought a laugh out of the tan man, who spun around to look at him. “No bed? Where did you sleep?”

Keith gestured over to the futon in the living room. “It’s pretty damn comfortable if you ask me. Even with the bed I have now, I still find myself falling asleep out here some nights.”

Lance glanced over at him with a fond look, something Keith wasn’t used to having directed at him. He found himself walking over to him, bringing his hands up to cradle his cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?”

A blush spread over tan cheeks, and Keith could feel the heat coming from his skin. “I, um...you just say exactly what you’re thinking, don’t you?” Lance asked, letting out a slightly nervous laugh that had Keith frowning.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. You can use my bed and I’ll sleep out here, and I’ll still drive you to get your car in the morning.”

Blue eyes blinked back at him, surprised. Then a slow smile crept across his face, and suddenly those soft lips he had been imagining kissing all night were pressed against his chastely. “I would love to be shown a good time by such a gentleman.”

Keith took a sharp breath, and settled his hands on slim hips, pulling his warm body flush against his own. “I would love to show you a good time, as long as you promise to tell me if anything is too much.”

“Ooh, good communication, how sexy,” Lance whispered, tacking on an exaggerated moan.

The two laughed and Keith slid his hands down to Lance’s ass, giving it a squeeze before lifting the man up and urging him to wrap his legs around his waist. “Maybe I just really like listening to your voice,” he told him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “I’m going to enjoy hearing you scream my name.”

Lance shuddered, fingers running through soft hair. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered in a shaky exhale.

Keith hummed his approval. “As long as you promise to fuck me later.”

A moan slipped out of Lance, legs tightening on Keith’s waist as he was dropped onto the bed. He nodded frantically, telling him all the things he wanted to do together, anything to keep those hands on him, to have those eyes eating him alive.

“Sounds like you have plans that will last us a lot longer than just tonight,” Keith said into his neck, hands creeping over the exposed skin of his stomach. His only response was a breathy gasp, fingers gripping his shoulders tight. “Well, I am happy to please you for as long as you like, Lance,” he whispered, hand slipping down to brush over Lance’s clothed erection. “And I was right, you _do_ look good spread out on my bed.”

Lance gave another laugh that morphed into a moan as he ground against him. "_Keith_."

*~*~*

“Keith, I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

The words were soft, almost like he didn’t want to say them at all. The only sounds came from the stacked washing machine and dryer, cleaning another round of bloodied garments.

He had hoped Lance wouldn’t see, that he could get them clean and wrap his wounds before he got home from class. But there was no way he could have known Lance’s last class of the day was canceled, couldn’t have known he would be home so early.

“Lance, it isn’t a big deal, it’s only a scratch-”

“A scratch? You call _this_-” he gestured to the road burn on Keith’s arm, from his shoulder to his elbow, still slowly oozing blood, “-_j_ _ ust a scratch _? Keith, you could have lost your arm!” His voice was thick, no doubt holding back tears.

Anger boiled up inside of Keith, that high he got from the adrenaline during the race fading faster than he had hoped. “But I didn’t, did I? I know what I’m fucking doing, Lance!”

Tears spilled over, running down those soft cheeks Keith loved running his fingers over. Loved pressing kisses to late at night when Lance was laying on him while watching tv, or early in the morning when he was still groggy with sleep. Hands shook, hands that he loved to hold, hands that would run over his body with such reverence, with such care, that Keith swore he would burst apart at the seams. Hands that had patched Keith up one too many times, it would seem.

“I cannot - _will_ not - stay here just to watch you destroy yourself. Those races are dangerous, and not just on the track! There are people, _ bad people _ , making bets on those races. And if you slip up even _ once _ , if you perform in a way that makes them lose money, they _ will _ come after you. They don’t play by the same rules as the rest of us!”

Lance was pleading now, and Keith couldn’t bear to hear it. Hated knowing it was because of him.

But he couldn’t give up the rush. That feeling of escaping danger, the relief of making it off that track after a race. That feeling would follow him for days if he let it, if nothing got in the way.

And right now, Lance was getting in the way.

“What do you want from me, Lance? I’ve been doing this for a long time, I am fully capable of handling myself on and off my bike. Do you want me to stop? Stop doing something that I love? And for what? For _ you _?” The venom poured from his mouth, and even as he watched Lance’s face crumble, watched as sobs rocked through his body, he couldn’t stop it.

He couldn’t bring himself to reach out when Lance turned to his bedroom- _their _bedroom, these past few months. He had grown so used to sleeping in a warm, soft bed next to a warm, soft body that the thought of sleeping alone on the futon was daunting.

But he replayed the race in his head, the feeling he got when that envelope of cash was handed to him, and glanced over to where it was now sitting on the counter. The money he had wanted to use to pay for Lance’s schooling.

They had hashed out that argument before too. Lance told him time and time again that he was in no rush to pay off his loans, that he was still a full-time student. That Keith could afford to get any normal, run-of-the-mill job and help Lance pay off interest until he got a job after graduation.

But Keith always insisted that he wouldn’t be able to make enough money elsewhere, that he could pay off a semester’s worth of tuition in just a few nights at the races.

And then Lance would say that he's worried about Keith’s wellbeing, and Keith would tell him he’d stop once he was out of school.

Then they would spend the night making love to each other, Lance desperate to get his hands on his boyfriend, to feel that he was here, that he was whole and safe and unharmed.

And Keith would live a different high, one born from Lance’s skin, his words, his soft touches and sweet kisses.

The feeling that would bubble up in him when he woke up to see Lance next to him, the lines of his face softened by sleep. The feeling he got watching Lance cook them dinner, from seeing Lance wearing his clothes, his leather gloves. From watching Lance laugh with his friends, or seeing the concentrated furrow in his brow while he studied, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. The feeling Lance gave him by holding his hand as they went food shopping, or resting his head on Keith's shoulder as they watched movies.

Just being near Lance brought out a burning in Keith that had nothing to do with his desire to fuck him senseless into the sheets. It was a warmth, spreading slowly through his body, almost as addictive as the rush he got after a race.

Almost.

*~*~*

The next morning, Keith woke to soft sounds coming from the bedroom. He rolled over on the opened futon and propped himself up on an elbow, glancing over to the source of the noise.

Lance was standing frozen in the doorway, a packed bag over his shoulder. Keith sat up slowly, afraid he would scare him off if he moved too fast. “Where are you going?” He had meant for it to sound snippy, but it came out much more uncertain than he would have liked.

“I’m going to stay with Hunk for a little while.”

He didn’t say any more, just stood quietly and watched Keith for any signs of a fight.

But he had no fight left in him. He let out a long exhale and slumped forward, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah...yeah, that’s fine. I....do you know when you’ll...when will you be back?”

Lance looked like he swallowed something funny, but spoke nonetheless. “I’m not coming back until you get a new job and quit racing. For good.”

Keith ran his fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath. “That’s...fair.”

“That’s all you have to say?” The words were soft, almost as if Lance hadn’t wanted Keith to hear him.

But he had, and he knew he needed to respond. “I just...I can’t, Lance. I love racing, I need the thrill, the adrenaline. I can’t live without it.”

“Do you love it more than you love me?”

It was blunt. He should have seen it coming, but it landed with a brutal accuracy that he didn’t expect. He flinched and looked away, unable to bring himself to speak.

Silence filled the apartment. Longer than it should have. Longer than it ever has since Lance moved in. And Keith couldn’t bring himself to fill it. To beg Lance to stay the way his heart was screaming at him to.

Footsteps approached the futon. Keith held his breath. A small silver key was dropped to the cushion in front of him. “Goodbye, Keith.”

He didn’t cry until the door shut and the apartment was thrown into silence once again.

*~*~*

The days blended together, a blur of eating, sleeping, and staring at the ceiling.

Then there were the races. The last bright spot in his life.

What had once been a monthly occurrence had slowly become a nightly event, keeping the emptiness at bay.

The money was stacking up, and by now the kitchen table was so covered in envelopes full of ill-earned cash that he had stopped eating there in favor of the living room.

He had caught the eyes of multiple unsavory people, those wanting to invest in his career, if it could be labeled that. People that wanted him to keep winning, that were making good money off of him winning.

And then one night it went south.

Someone had gotten mad about his success, someone had lost one too many times when they went up against Keith.

The other man had lost his life. Had pulled something so reckless, so stupid, had caused a crash with multiple bikes on the course. Keith was on one of them.

Two broken bones in his left arm, his left hand shattered. A sprained ankle. Torn LCL. Multiple contusions. A concussion. A three day stay at the hospital.

He had never bothered to change his emergency contacts, so when the nurse told him he was free to go, it was Lance standing in the waiting room for him.

The car ride home was quiet. Keith could see the tension in Lance’s body, could sense the rising storm inside of him.

But Lance said nothing. Stayed quiet as he helped Keith into the apartment. Kept silent as he helped Keith wash up and change into comfortable clothes. Did not utter a word as he ushered Keith into bed, turning the lights off.

And Keith couldn’t let the silence stay this time. Not after the loneliness. Not when day after day had driven him mad while Lance had been gone.

“What can I do to fix this?”

Finally, Lance looked at him. Really looked at him. Made eye contact for the first time since he had left this apartment all those weeks ago, and finally saw how empty those violet eyes he loved so much had become.

They stared at each other for a long time, and Keith was too scared to say anything more.

“Prove to me that you care enough about yourself to stop this,” Lance whispered, his voice strained.

Keith blinked, and managed to croak out, “how?”

“Find a new job. Anywhere. Stop racing. Prove to me that you can change.”

There was a stubbornness in Lance’s eyes that he was not used to being directed at him. Keith knew he would not budge on this, that if he could not change, if he could not quit those races and get his life back on track, then Lance would never take him back.

A sort of determination filled his body then, a desperation. No matter how much he loved the adrenaline rush he got from those races, it would never replace that soft warmth being with Lance brought him.

The thrill from racing was short-lived. It burned fast and bright, but between those flashes of light was nothing.

But Lance. He shone brightly at all hours, sleeping and waking, present and far. The light didn’t fade when Lance was gone, but glowed softly, knowing that Lance would be there again soon.

And Keith couldn’t live without it. He couldn’t live without Lance.

So he raised his head and looked Lance in the eye. “I promise.”

Lance gave him a skeptical look, but Keith could see the hope behind his eyes, the hope he knew Lance was trying to squash. “Goodbye, Keith.”

“I’ll see you soon, Lance.”

*~*~*

Keith was standing in the food store, trying to figure out what the difference between the two brands of cereal in his hand was when they found him.

They were in dark leather clothes, clothes much like the ones Keith used to wear. They were tall and burly, typical messengers their employers were expected to use. Purple bands on their sleeves telling anyone that knew exactly who they were.

“Keith Kogane?” The one on the left said, glaring down his nose at him.

“Yep, that’s me,” Keith told them as he tossed one box into his cart and placed the other back on the shelf. “What can I do for you two?”

They followed him as he turned down the next isle, perusing the shelves. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in the arena. Our boss wants to know what he has to do to, _ persuade _, you into coming back.”

Keith pulled the cart to the side of the aisle, coming to a stop. He glanced at the men. “Sorry boys, you’ll have to tell him I can’t.” Before either could threaten him further, Keith pulled off the glove on his left hand. The scars covering it brought both men pause.

“I haven’t been able to race the same since that accident. I can still use my hand, but…” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t have the reaction time and accuracy that I used to anymore. And with how tight the competition is, there’s no way I would be winning anything.” He slid the glove back on. “I didn’t have a way to contact your boss, so I figured I’d save him his money and just stop showing up. Send him my condolences, would you?”

When he looked back up from his hand, the two men were already leaving. One gave him a nod as they rounded the corner. Keith let his shoulders relax, not realizing how tense he had become. Four months ago he would have been thrilled by his brush with danger today, but now he only felt relief. Relief that no one was going to be coming after him now. That he was finally free from that race track, and the people there.

He went through the self-checkout, using his newly acquired credit card to pay for his groceries. Then he went outside, to his newly acquired car (fancier then he should have gone with, but he had the money for it, dammit) and drove back to his apartment.

There were pictures hanging on the walls now. Shiro had been framing and displaying them for Keith, as a reminder of the hard work he had been doing. Adam’s neat penmanship was at the bottom of each, labelling the date and event. Keith was in different settings in each, sometimes a bar, sometimes a restaurant. Sometimes with Shiro, sometimes Adam, depending on who was taking the shot. They each marked an important day for him.

The day he got his job at the car shop. The day he opened his first checking account. The day he was approved for his first credit card. The day he was accepted into community college. His first night of class. The day he adopted Kosmo.

The day he had his cast removed and was cleared by the doctor for physical activity. The same day he sold his dirt bike and motorcycle.

Once his groceries were unpacked, he grabbed his (new) phone and dialed a now-familiar number. Someone he had been relying on, to the point where he was surprised they even answered when his name popped up on their screen.

“I hope you know it is too fucking early to be calling.”

“But it’s already ten in the morning, Pidge.”

“_ On a Sunday _.”

“Come on, humor me?”

A static-y sigh from the other end. “So they came to talk to you?”

“Yup.”

“And you showed them the scars?”

Keith opened the fridge. “Right in the candy aisle.”

A snort. “And they just accepted it?”

“Didn’t even question it.” He sipped from a chilled water bottle, a million thoughts running through his mind. “So?”

“You really want to know?” Pidge sounded tired, and Keith felt bad, but he had no other way to check in on him.

“Please.”

Another sigh and the sound of a bed creaking. “He’s been on a few dates, but no one ever lasts past a second one. He’s still stuck on you.”

Hope flared in his chest, blindingly bright and expanding fast. “Really?”

“I swear to god Kogane, do not make me regret telling you this. If you hurt him one more time-”

“I won’t-”

“-I will personally string you up by your balls-”

“-I promise, Pidge-”

“-he has been doing better, and I do not want to ruin this for him-”

“_Pidge_.” They went silent. “I have been working so hard for this. I sold my bikes. I got a job that pays the bills and has a retirement plan. I signed up for night classes to finally finish my degree. I got a dog, and he's still alive after three months of living with me. I’ve been spending more time with Shiro and Adam, have been actually listening to them for once in my life. I am doing so much better, and even if he doesn’t want me back, I have to see him. Just one more time. Please.”

There was a moment where Keith had to pull the phone from his ear to check and make sure his friend had not hung up on him, but they were still clearly on the line. After what felt like an eternity, they finally replied. “I’ll send you his address. He’s still living with Hunk, but he’s going to be home by himself today. They just got done their finals last week and Hunk left to visit his girlfriend, so this is kind of perfect timing. But you need to sweep him off his feet, do you hear me? He deserves nothing less than your best.”

“Okay, yeah, I can...holy shit, I can do that. Thank you Pidge. Really. I never would have gotten to where I am without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I helped you stalk your ex. I wouldn’t exactly call that being a model citizen.”

He sputtered and almost dropped his phone. “I wasn’t - this isn’t stalking! He's one of your best friends! I was just checking up on him!”

He hears laughing, and can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face. “Just go get your man, Kogane.” And with that, they hang up.

Not wanting to waste a single minute, Keith grabbed his wallet and keys and booked it to the nearest produce store, finding the biggest bouquet of blue flowers he could get his hands on. On his way home, he stopped at a toy store and picked up the softest teddy bear he could find, one with a ribbon wrapped around its neck and a red heart sewn onto its paw.

Once home, he gave Kosmo a few pets and kisses, then changed into the suit Adam had insisted he buy for his entrance interviews for college. It was clean-cut and hugged his frame well, enough to be sexy but still professional. Shiro had pretended to cry when he saw Keith cleaned up for the first time. (Adam had actually cried a bit, but would deny it if anyone asks).

Without even looking at the clock, Keith grabbed his things and booked it to his car, plugging the address Pidge sent him into his phone’s GPS. The ride there was a blur of nervous energy and anticipation, but once he found the door to Lance’s apartment he was already knocking, juggling the teddy bear and flowers in his arms.

From the other side of the door, he heard a velvety voice call out, “Just a second!” and he felt a smile spread across his face, a spike of warmth course through his body.

He was finally exactly where he needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @_MissCosmic_  
( https://twitter.com/_MissCosmic_?s=09 )


End file.
